The Chosen Of Ursus
by Clare
Summary: The story of the crippled boy who grew up to become the Great Mog-ur
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

At first, Uba thought the child had been stillborn. It had been a difficult birth, the most difficult she could remember attending, and there had been moments when she had wondered whether Avra would live to deliver the baby. And, when Avra's son finally emerged into the world, it was immediately apparent that something was wrong; the child's head was abnormally large, his limbs unmoving. There was no sign of life. But, as Uba reached out to take the baby and wrap him in a leather blanket to be disposed of along with the afterbirth, she heard a faint whimper.

Could it be . . .? Uba looked at the baby more closely and saw that he was breathing. He had been stuck for so long that Uba had feared he wouldn't survive even if Avra did live long enough to push him out. But, even though the baby was alive, there was no guarantee that Vorg would accept him, especially given the damage the difficult birth had inflicted.

Avra struggled to sit up. "Mother?" she signed. "Is my baby all right?"

Uba could only shake her head; she did not hold out much hope for the child. All she could do was hope that Avra's Duck totem would one day be defeated again. If it wasn't - and Uba knew a difficult birth could mean a woman's totem never again succumbed to the essence of a man's totem - Vorg would have to take a second woman to bear children for him. As the leader of the clan, he needed a mate who could bear him a healthy son, a son who would one day become leader himself. In which case, Uba reflected, it was lucky Avra had been born to such an illustrious line of medicine women; it meant she had status in her own right, not through the man to whom she was mated. Even if she never bore another child, even if Vorg made her leave his hearth, nothing could take that away from her.

"What is it?" Avra asked. "What's wrong?"

Uba looked at her daughter. "I'm sorry, Avra," she gestured. "Your son barely survived the birth and I don't hold out much hope of him living until his naming day, even if Vorg does allow you to keep him." She turned to the woman who had assisted with the birth, a task which normally fell to Avra. "Oka, go and report to Vorg."

Usually, it was the leader's mate who informed the leader of the outcome of a birth, but Avra was the leader's mate. So, as the mate of the second-in-command, Oka would have to fulfill this duty instead. She slowly made her way to the hearth where Vorg was waiting with the rest of the men, the hearth belonging to her own mate, Cruv.

* * *

At fifteen, Vorg was young to be leader; his manhood rites, at which the symbol of his Red Deer totem had been carved into his body, had taken place a little over three years before. But the leader before him, Dron, had died when an aurochs he and the other men were hunting turned at the last minute and gored him. Vorg had always known that the moment when he must assume his predestined role as leader would come one day, but he hadn't expected it to come so soon. Indeed, had it happened just a few years earlier, Cruv would have had to act as regent; leadership was a job for men, not boys.

But Vorg was a man, a young man but still a man, and his mother, Iga, had been mated to the previous leader. According to Clan tradition, this meant he was qualified to assume the role of leader and it would not have occurred to anyone in the Clan to question tradition, even if they did have doubts. But any doubts the members of Vorg's clan may have harboured had long since been put to rest. Vorg was a competent leader despite his youth, never rushing into decisions without consideration, worthy of his Red Deer totem.

Oka approached Vorg slowly and sat down at his feet with her head bowed, the traditional posture for a female who wished to speak to a male. She looked up as Vorg tapped her on the shoulder, allowing her to deliver the news Uba had sent her to deliver. "Avra has given birth to a son," she told him, omitting the signs for "I am pleased to report" that were traditionally used to announce the birth of a baby boy. "However, this woman regrets to report that there were problems during the birth. The child is alive but deformed. This woman would request that the leader examine the child so that the leader may determine the child's fate."

Vorg frowned as he learned that the first child of his mate had been born deformed. He had been pleased when Avra's totem was defeated and he knew she had asked her totem to make the baby a boy, a son who would one day inherit the leadership of the clan. Now, she had the son she had wanted, but the difficult birth had damaged the child, though Vorg could not yet tell how much damage had been done. He would have to examine the baby before he made any decisions.

Vorg got to his feet and, without acknowledging Oka, not that she had expected him to, made his way to his own hearth. The rest of the clan's male population remained at Cruv's hearth, nine of them in total, including two young boys: Dorv, who was nearly a man, and her own son, Zoug, who had been the youngest male in the clan until now. Depending on Vorg's decision, the number of males in the clan could soon total eleven.

* * *

The baby whimpered as Vorg took him from his mother and opened the wrappings to examine him. The child's head was unusually large, Vorg noted - no doubt that had caused the difficult delivery - and his limbs were barely twitching. He did begin to fuss a little at being exposed to the cold air of the cave, but he couldn't sustain the cry for long and soon fell silent. Vorg frowned; there was little doubt that the baby was deformed and tradition demanded that a deformed baby be disposed of, by the mother if she was able or by the medicine woman if she was not. In this case, however, there was no-one who could carry out the task.

Avra, who had been made medicine woman in the early stages of her pregnancy, was too weak to leave the cave; he couldn't ask her to do it. And, though Uba was still technically a medicine woman too, she was crippled by arthritis and unable to walk far. It was best if a stillborn or malformed infant was disposed of far away from the area of the cave to avoid attracting predators. And that, Vorg realised, meant there was only one decision he could make.

"The child is deformed," he gestured. "But, as there is no-one who can dispose of him, he will remain with his mother as though he had been normal. If he is still alive after seven days, he will be named and accepted into the clan."

It was unlikely, however, that Avra's baby would still be alive on his naming day. The damage inflicted by the difficult birth was obvious even to Vorg; he had simply taken the only decision he could take under the circumstances. Most likely the child would be dead within a few days and, if he lived, there was a strong possibility that he would never be able to hunt like other males. That meant he would never truly become a man. But, even if he grew up to be a burden on the clan, there would always be someone to provide for him. No Clan person was ever allowed to go cold and hungry, however low their status. There was a woman in Vorg's clan called Inga who had never had any children and, because she had originally come from another clan, she had no family to take her in after her mate died. Since then, she had been traded from fire to fire, a woman with no status, but she was always given enough to eat and always had a warm wrap to wear.

And, if Avra's son lived, he too would always be provided for. He might grow up to be a burden, his afflictions might prevent him from becoming a hunter like other males, but no-one would ever deny him a share of the food the clan had hunted and gathered. The only people who were not given a share were those who had been subjected to the Clan's ultimate punishment, the death curse.

* * *

Against the odds, Avra's baby was still alive after two days. But Avra was having difficulty producing milk, even though Uba had given her a tea made from herbs which stimulated milk flow. Holding her baby in her arms, she searched her mind, drawing on both her own personal memories and the memories she had inherited from her ancestors, trying to find a solution to her problem. If she couldn't nurse her own baby, there was no way he would survive until the naming day.

"How is he?" It was Ora, one of the young women in the clan, who had come to visit Avra and have a sneak peak at the new baby. Ora had a baby of her own, a girl named Oudra who was a little over three moons old, and she looked down at the child sleeping contentedly in her arms. She knew there had been difficulties with the birth of Avra's baby; even with the stricture against looking into someone else's hearth, it was impossible not to notice the cries of a woman struggling in labour. Ora was grateful her own labour had gone well and that Oudra was a healthy baby. But Avra had not been so fortunate.

"Still alive," Avra gestured. She attempted to nurse her son again, only to find that her milk still wasn't flowing.

Ora knew what was wrong, even though she was neither a medicine woman nor training to be one. A mother knew these things and a mother also knew a baby needed to nurse if it was to stand any chance of survival. And it was clear that Avra was having difficulty producing the milk her son needed. "Why don't you let me nurse him?" she suggested, taking pity on the infant. Oudra was still young enough for her to be producing plenty of milk; it shouldn't be too much of a strain on her to nurse Avra's baby as well, at least until Avra's milk started flowing.

The two young mothers swapped babies and, as Ora took Avra's son in her arms, Avra looked down at the baby girl she had been handed. One day, she would need a daughter to continue her line, but not yet; as the mate of the leader, she also needed a healthy son to take over the leadership and, while she had a son, there was no getting away from the fact that he was not healthy. She still didn't know if he would survive until his naming day, but she reasoned that, if Ora could persuade him to take milk from her, he might have a chance. A slim chance, but still a chance.

Ora put Avra's baby to her breast, noting to her relief that he latched on right away. "At least there's nothing wrong with his appetite," she signed. But she and Avra couldn't help wondering what would happen to this child who had barely survived birth, whose future was still uncertain. And Clan people didn't like uncertainty; it upset the well-ordered, tradition-bound world in which they lived. Under normal circumstances, the future of Avra's son would have been clearly mapped out; he would have been destined to become the next leader. However, his deformities meant his fate was less certain.

* * *

Vorg looked at the son of his mate, the child no-one had expected would survive until his naming day. Now, according to the mog-ur, the naming day was tomorrow and that meant Avra's baby would have to be named and accepted into the clan. When Vorg had allowed the baby to stay with Avra, he had expected the child to be dead within a few days. Deformed babies rarely lived long, even on the rare occasions they were allowed to stay with their mothers. But this child seemed to have an unusually strong will to live; against the odds, he had survived. And, first thing in the morning, his naming ceremony would be held.

The naming ceremony. As the baby had been born to his hearth, it was Vorg's duty to choose a name for the child. Women had no direct say over what their children were called, though, if they were on good terms with their mates, they were allowed to suggest names. It was then up to the man whether he used the name his mate had suggested or not. Most men, however, did at least choose names which would please their mates.

Vorg had not given the matter a great deal of thought, not while the child's life still hung in the balance. It was not worth choosing a name for a baby who might not live to use it, who might not live to become an officially recognised member of the clan. Now, however, the baby had survived against the odds and, if he was to be a member of the clan, he would need a name. But what name should he been given? What name would suit a boy who had survived when no-one had expected him to?

Towards evening, Vorg thought of an answer. The man who had been mated to his great-grandmother had also barely survived birth, but he had gone on to become one of the greatest leaders his clan had ever known. He had even had one of the most powerful totems, the Cave Lion, the totem that was second only to the Cave Bear in terms of strength. Vorg was too young to have known him personally, but Dron had told him about his ancestor while he was growing up, including the man's name. It was a fine name borne by a boy who had defied the odds to become a great leader.

That was it, Vorg decided. He would name Avra's son after the former leader and, while it was unlikely the baby would ever follow in his ancestor's footsteps, perhaps the name Vorg had in mind was lucky in some way. Vorg didn't know much about the ways of the spirits - no-one did unless he was a mog-ur or at least an acolyte - but he wondered if having the same name as a man who had not only survived against the odds but also become a great leader would cause some of that luck to rub off on the baby.

Having decided on a name for the son of his mate, Vorg made his way to the mog-ur's hearth to discuss the ceremony which would be held first thing in the morning.

* * *

By tradition, Clan naming ceremonies always took place at first light, while the totem spirits still hovered near after protecting the people during the night. So, as the sky lightened, the members of Vorg's clan gathered outside the cave, waiting for the ceremony in which Avra's son would be named and officially recognised as a member of the Clan. Many were curious to know what name Vorg had chosen for the child, but none of them asked; it would not be proper and they would find out soon enough anyway. So they stood and waited for Avra to emerge from the cave with her child, the child who had survived his first seven days when no-one expected him to.

As well as the human members of the clan (twenty-one of them, excluding Avra and her baby) the ceremony would be observed by the huge cave bear kept within the cage outside the cave. During the following summer, Vorg's clan would be hosting the Clan Gathering, the time when all the local clans would come together for a meeting which only took place once every seven years. The cave bear, captured as a young cub and raised as though he was a child of the clan, would play an important role in the ceremonies to come. In the meantime, he watched from behind a barricade of logs as Avra, in answer to a signal from the clan's mog-ur, carried her baby out of the cave.

Avra sat down on the ground in front of the mog-ur, a rather serious man named Breeg whose right arm bore a blackened, hook-shaped scar, the symbol of his Eagle totem. He was also the mate of Ora, the mother of Oudra. Keeping her head lowered so that she wouldn't look at him by accident - she was still bleeding following the birth, still subject to the women's curse - Avra unwrapped the baby's wrappings and held him up. As the baby began to cry from the shock of being exposed to the cold air, Breeg began the ceremony. In formal gestures, he called on the spirits to attend as the newest addition to the clan was named and accepted, then dipped his finger into a bowl of red ochre paste which he had prepared the previous day.

Breeg had to make all his preparations himself since he had no acolyte. The only male children in the clan were Dorv and Zoug, neither of whom had the inclination to become a mog-ur, and the rest of the male population were too old; acolytes had to begin training during childhood. Perhaps, Breeg thought, he should talk to the other mog-urs when the clans assembled for the Clan Gathering; one of them might know of a boy in his clan who might be a likely candidate. But the Clan Gathering was several moons away. At present, Breeg had to concentrate on the naming ceremony for Avra's child. He drew a line from the middle of the baby's undeveloped brow ridges to the tip of his nose.

"Creb," Breeg said out loud, before adding in formal gestures: "The boy's name is Creb."

"Creb," Avra repeated, pleased with the name Vorg had chosen for her son. She held the baby close to her as the clan began to file past, each of them repeating the child's name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Breeg dipped his finger in the red ochre paste and drew a small elongated circle on Creb's right leg, followed by an identical circle right next to the first. The two circles resembled the hoofprint of a cloven-hooved animal such as a deer. Avra held her nearly four-moon-old son in her arms as Breeg made the gestures which announced to the whole clan (and the unseen but ever-present spirits) which animal was the baby's personal totem. "Spirit of Roe Deer, the boy, Creb, is delivered into your protection."

Hand signals flashed among the watching clan, commenting on what Breeg had just said. The Roe Deer was usually a female totem; for a boy to have it was almost unheard of, especially a boy whose mother was mated to the leader. Boys usually had strong and powerful totems, the spirits of predatory animals or large herbivores such as Vorg's Red Deer. The Roe Deer, though a similar animal, was much more gentle, a trait more often associated with females. Still, Avra thought as Breeg hung a leather pouch containing a lump of red ochre around Creb's neck, it was unlikely her son would become a strong hunter anyway. At best, he might be able to join the older men who could no longer take part in major hunts, but even that was doubtful.

Creb had grown stronger since his birth, but he still wasn't as strong as other babies and Avra doubted he ever would be. And, if he never became strong enough to hunt, he would grow up to be a burden on the clan, unable to learn the skills required of Clan boys. And it would never have occurred to her to teach him women's skills, not least because he wouldn't have the memories for it. Among Clan people, gender roles were so rigidly set that the racial memories of males and females were fundamentally different. Boys could not learn women's skills, girls could not learn men's skills and, on the rare occasions a child was born with memories belonging to the opposite gender, those memories were never stimulated and were soon lost.

As Avra, her son in her arms, joined the rest of the women, she sent a silent plea to her Duck totem. If he was ever defeated again, she wanted another son - and she wanted that son to be healthy.

* * *

It wasn't that Avra hadn't grown to love Creb, but she was the mate of a leader and, as such, was expected to produce a male heir. And, since it was unlikely Creb would ever truly become a man in the eyes of the Clan, that meant she would need to produce another son. But not for a few years. It was never a good idea to get pregnant while you still had a young baby; if something happened to you, your existing child would be left without a mother, as would your new baby if it survived birth. That was one of the first things Uba had taught Avra when she began training her to be a medicine woman.

Looking at her son, Avra recalled how she had struggled to give birth to him, how Vorg had only let her keep him because there was no-one in the clan who could dispose of him. She had not expected him to survive, especially with the difficulty she had had producing milk, but he had survived. And not only that, her milk had finally started flowing shortly after his naming ceremony. She had taken that as a sign that the spirits wanted him to live even though he was deformed, not that she understood the ways of the spirits. No woman was allowed to, not even a medicine woman; if she need the spirits to aid her when she worked her healing magic, she would ask her clan's mog-ur to call on them for her. And any woman who dared to venture an opinion in matters concerning spirits had to beg forgiveness for her presumption, even if her opinion carried some weight.

Thinking of spirits reminded Avra that it would soon be time for the Clan Gathering, her first since becoming a medicine woman. Soon, members of eight other clans would descend on the cave of Vorg's clan for a meeting which took place once every seven years, a rare chance to see friends and relatives who lived in other clans. Avra knew Oka, who had helped her when she was giving birth to Creb, was looking forward to the Gathering; at the last Gathering, Oka's older sister, Uda, had found a mate in another clan.

Uda's situation was not unusual. At the time she became a woman, there had been no unmated men in her own clan and no men who were in a position to take on a second woman. Fortunately, the Clan Gathering had taken place that summer and, by its end, a young hunter from the third-ranked clan had agreed to take her as a mate. Oka, still a child at the time, had not seen her sister for seven years, would not even know if she was still alive until the clan into which she had mated arrived at the cave of Vorg's clan. And Uda had never met her nephew, Zoug, who was just beginning to learn to hunt.

And Avra would have an important role to play in the ceremonies which would take place following the Bear Festival. The medicine women of her line knew the secret of preparing a certain root, a root which aided the men in their secret rituals, though no woman, not even a medicine woman, was allowed to know the precise properties of that root. All Uba had ever told her was that the secret of how to prepare it had been handed down through their line for countless generations and that the drink made from the root was so sacred that it must never be made just for practice, only for very important ceremonies. Avra would make the drink for the first time at the Clan Gathering.

* * *

"Crood!" Vorg called as the first of the visiting clans came in sight, led by a man whose brown hair was beginning to show a touch of grey. Vorg then made a greeting gesture, modified to indicate that the leader of one clan was greeting another, but Crood did not return the gesture.

"Why do you greet me as though you were a leader?" he asked in clipped gestures. "And where is Dron?"

"Dron walks in the next world now, so I became leader in his place. I know I am young for it, but it is the Clan way - the first born son of the leader's mate must become leader himself." As he made the hand signals, Vorg thought of the son of his own mate, the boy he had allowed to live in spite of the deformity that had resulted from his difficult birth. Creb was now nearing the end of his birth year and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he had been damaged in some way; Vorg didn't need to be a medicine woman to know that. As yet, it was impossible to determine the extent of the damage, but Vorg doubted the child would ever become a leader as should have been his destiny.

Crood made a gesture which indicated that he regretted any misunderstanding. "But I wasn't expecting you to become leader for a few more years yet," he added.

"Neither was I," Vorg signed. "But this is neither the time nor the place to discuss it. You and your clan have come a long way and need to get settled." He turned to his mate and the mate of his second-in-command, who were standing a short distance away. "Avra, Oka, show Crood and his clan to their place in the cave."

The cave of Vorg's clan consisted of two vast chambers, one of which served as the living space of the clan who called the cave home. The second chamber was unused most of the time, but, for the duration of the Clan Gathering, it would be home to the members of the eight visiting clans. Over the last few days, the members of Vorg's clan had been making ready for the influx of visitors, the women sweeping out the unused chamber, the men gathering rocks to allow the visiting clans to set up their own hearths. Crood's clan had been the second highest ranked at the last Clan Gathering - Vorg's clan, then Dron's clan, had been the highest - and this entitled them to a prime spot in the cave of the host clan.

Avra and Oka led Crood and his clan to their place in the cave and left them to get settled.

* * *

The light was beginning to fade and Vorg knew it was unlikely any more clans would arrive until the next morning at the earliest. So he allowed Avra and Oka to take a break from their duties so that they could attend to the needs of their families. Avra was relieved; she had not nursed Creb since this morning and her breasts were beginning to ache. Still, she was grateful she was able to nurse her son at all, especially after the problems she had had producing milk immediately after he was born.

In order to enter the cave, Avra and Oka had to walk past the cave bear, currently pacing inside his stockade. On seeing the two women, he sat up and begged for food, a gesture which was invariably rewarded with a few choice titbits. "Greetings, furry son of the Clan," Avra motioned. Until the Bear Ceremony, no-one could make the signs for "bear", "cave bear" or "Ursus" in front of the cave bear which had been raised by the host clan. To do so would remind him who he really was, make him a wild bear again, invalidate the Bear Ceremony. "This woman regrets that she has no food to offer you," she added. "But this woman will bring you something as soon as she has attended to the needs of her own child."

Inside the cave, Avra found Uba sitting at Vorg's hearth with Creb in her lap. Since her mate died nearly a moon ago, the old medicine woman had lived with her daughter and son-in-law and she often helped with the baby. It made her feel useful, gave her a sense of purpose now that she was too old to fulfil most of the duties of a medicine woman. This was the last Clan Gathering she would be able to attend and that was only because she was a member of the host clan; had another clan been hosting, she would have been unable to make the trek to their cave. If she was still alive in seven years' time, she would have to stay behind. Still, she was happy to take care of her grandson when Avra was busy tending the sick.

"How has he been?" Avra signed, as Uba handed Creb to her.

"He's been fine," Uba replied. "Ora nursed him a while ago, but he should be getting hungry again soon."

As she held her child in her arms, Avra wondered how she was going to face the visiting clans with a deformed baby. Her own clan was one thing, but the people in the other clans had never seen Creb before and they would want to know why she had been allowed to keep him. But it wasn't as if she could keep him hidden forever; she would have to face them sooner or later.

* * *

Avra emerged from the cave, holding Creb in his carrying cloak, the large hide which Clan women used when carrying babies. The moment they saw the son of the woman who was mated to the leader of the host clan, the visiting clans stopping what they were doing and stared. They knew it was improper, but they couldn't help it; many had never seen a deformed child before, apart from a few women who had faced the grim task of disposing of a baby that was not quite right. Avra saw them gesturing among themselves, speculating about why her deformed son was still alive, and was tempted to go straight back into the cave.

Before she had time to think about it, however, a voice hailed her. "Avra!" She looked to see who had called her name; it was Uda, the woman who had mated a man from another clan. Uda, holding a small baby in a carrying cloak, had been talking to Oka when she saw Avra. In answer to her name, Avra joined the two women, greeting them with the gesture which was used when a woman was greeting another woman, but modified to reflect the fact that she had the highest status of the three of them.

"Is that your baby?" Uda signed, indicating Creb, who was looking at the women out of eyes which were well on their way to assuming the dark brown colour of Clan people. Like any infant, he was beginning to show an interest in the world around him and, in that respect at least, he was perfectly normal. But Avra still didn't know the extent of the damage his difficult birth had inflicted.

"Yes, this is my son. His name is Creb."

"I too have a son," Uda gestured. "He is named Gurn." She nodded towards the four-year-old boy, who had gone to play with his cousin, Zoug, whom he had not met before. "And this is his sibling, Iva," she added, looking fondly at her baby. Before long, the three women were discussing their children in gestures punctuated by gruff words.

Avra was talking about the circumstances surrounding Creb's birth when Uda found the courage to ask the question she had been longing to ask. "Why did Vorg let you keep him?" She wasn't questioning the decision - it was improper for a woman to question anything a man did, especially a leader - but she was curious. It was rare for a woman to be allowed to keep a deformed baby and rarer still for a leader to allow the son of his mate to live if the child was born with a defect that might keep him from becoming leader himself one day.

"I was too weak to leave the cave," Avra signed. "And Uba is too old now to travel far, so there was no-one who could dispose of him. I know he might never grow to be a leader like his mother's mate, but maybe the spirits have other plans for him. Not that I understand the ways of the spirits," she added with the customary deprecating gesture. "And if my totem is ever defeated again, I shall ask the spirits to give me a healthy son."

* * *

The next few days were taken up with competitions between the men, who vied with each other in tests of strength, weapons skills and speed. There were hunt re-enactments too, in which each clan chose a major hunt and recreated it for the other clans, though there was more to it than mere entertainment. Hunt dances were a useful way of demonstrating how to successfully hunt large and potentially dangerous animals without putting anyone's lives at risk. It was also the closest the women of the Clan could get to taking part in hunts themselves, since even hunting small game was forbidden to them. Nor could they touch weapons, or any tools which were used to make weapons. They did sometimes go with the men on extended hunts, but only to butcher the meat and help carry it home; the actual hunting was left to the men.

As Avra watched the men of Crood's clan act out a horse hunt, she found herself thinking about Creb. Would he ever take part in hunt dances himself? Or would he always be among those watching from the sidelines? If he never became strong enough to hunt, what would his life be like in a society where males were expected to be brave and fearless hunters, at least when they were young?

But she had little time to worry about her son's future while the Clan Gathering was going on. As a medicine woman and as the mate of the leader of the host clan, there were many demands on her time; among other things, she had to supervise the preparations for the feast which would be held to honour Ursus. And then, of course, there was the ritual where she would make the drink from the roots, a ritual which required careful preparation.

Soon, it was time for the Bear Festival. Avra, standing in the front row as befitted her status as a first-ranked medicine woman, felt a palpable sense of awe as she watched Breeg spin the bullroarer around his head, producing the sound which warned all other spirits away from this ceremony that was conducted once every seven years, this ceremony which honoured Ursus alone. She remembered how, at the previous Clan Gathering when she was still a little girl, she had clung to Uba, startled by the noise the bullroarer was making. Now, she was a mother herself and, looking at the child in her arms, she noticed that he was watching the bullroarer as if he was trying to work out where the noise was coming from.

As the bullroarer wound down, another mog-ur began a warbling tune on a flute made from the leg-bone of a large bird; the sounds of the two instruments represented the physical and the spiritual voices of Ursus and, as such, were reserved for this ceremony alone. Breeg gave the cave bear a drink of water, served in a bowl which had once been the skull of a man who had been killed in a previous Bear Ceremony; he waited until the bear was through drinking before taking his place at the front of the assembled magicians. Then, in perfect unison, the mog-urs began to make the gestures which called on Ursus to intercede for the Clan in the world of the spirits. As the prayer ended, the young men who had been selected for the Bear Ceremony assembled around the cave bear's cage and thrust their spears into the animal. Some drew blood, but not all.

As the bear roared in pain, the three young men - Borm from the host clan, Gred whose mother was mated to Crood's second-in-command and Dorg from the clan into which Uda had mated - who had been chosen for special honours began to cut the lashings which held the cage shut. Soon, the bear was loose; maddened with pain, he turned on the men surrounding him, as the assembled audience watched in horror. Women and children clung to each other. Men who had not been selected for the Ceremony held their spears ready to defend them. But, though many felt the urge to run, no-one did so; they stayed and watched as the chosen men fought to bring down the powerful cave bear. By the time the beast finally succumbed, two men lay dead on the ground; the mog-urs would later honour them in a special ceremony.

Avra handed Creb to Uba before joining Oka and the rest of the women who were mated to the leaders or the seconds of each clan in the task of skinning the cave bear. The head and the hide would be mounted on poles to provide a focal point for tonight's feast, at which the meat of the bear would be eaten. And each mog-ur would be given a share of rendered cave bear fat. First, though, the bear's blood was collected in bowls and drunk in an act of communion which made the people of the Clan one with the great Ursus.

As Avra opened Creb's mouth and placed a fingerful of blood on his tongue, she sensed that, no matter what the future held for him, he was truly one of the Clan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Creb was slow to start walking. He was more than halfway through what would normally have been his walking year before he pulled himself up on his feet for the first time. And, when he did begin to walk, it quickly became clear that something was wrong; he already had a pronounced limp. At first, Avra hoped he might grow out of it in time, but he showed no sign of doing so and it became clear that her early fears that he would never be able to hunt were going to be realised.

There was nothing she could do. Thanks to her lineage, she knew a great deal about herbal remedies and even how to perform a few minor operations, but she could not do anything to correct her son's limp. And Creb was becoming increasingly aware that he was different from the people around him, that no-one else in the clan had the same difficulty with walking as he did. "Why leg bad?" he signed one afternoon after he had tried to walk down to the river with Avra. When he couldn't keep up, his mother had been forced to carry him in his travelling cloak.

"You were born that way," Avra replied. "And I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it."

"But you heal people." Creb had often seen his mother and grandmother make people better when they were sick or injured. "Make leg better."

Avra shook her head. "Creb, I can't. Even the best medicine woman can't heal everyone and I can't heal your leg. You're just going to have to accept that." All the same, she wished there was something she could do. Creb was now two-and-a-half years old, getting heavier every day. Eventually, he would get too heavy for her to carry when, as had happened today, his bad leg prevented him from keeping up. Clan children often rode on their mothers' hips when travelling long distances, but, as they grew older, they liked to get down and run by themselves whenever they could. Creb, however, would never be able to run; he could barely even walk.

As she looked at her small son, Avra wondered, as she had done many times since he was born, whether he would ever be able to contribute anything to the clan. If he couldn't, if no purpose could be found for him, he would grow up to be a burden and never have any kind of status. And, without the ability to hunt, he would never truly be a man; instead he would live out his life in the same limbo as older boys who had not yet made their first major kill.

* * *

In the time that had passed since Creb was born, there had been some changes in Vorg's clan. The ranks of the hunters had a new member; Dorv's manhood rites had been held a few moons before, meaning he was now a fully adult member of the clan. At a ceremony watched by the whole clan, Breeg had carved the symbol for Dorv's Musk Ox totem into the youth's arm. Avra had told Dorv's mother, Uva, that she was pleased for her son, but there was no disguising her sorrow at the fact that she would never be able to watch Creb go through the same initiation. The Clan's language was more than just hand signals and a few gruff words; the whole body was used to communicate. Posture and expression conveyed nuances in the same way tone of voice did in verbal speech, often even more so. It meant Clan people were so highly skilled at reading body language that any attempt to tell a lie could easily be seen. At most, they could refrain from mentioning something they wanted to keep private.

Dorv had recently been mated to a young woman named Ama; the couple were still in isolation, confined to their hearth which was off limits to the rest of the clan for the duration of their confinement. Ama, Avra recalled, was Vorg's stepsibling. After Dron was killed, Iga needed a man to provide for her and Vorg had given her to a hunter named Briv, whose own mate (Ama's mother) had died. This meant Dorv, as Ama's mate, was now kin.

Ora, the woman who had nursed Creb when Avra's milk was slow to start, was expecting her second child. Her totem had been defeated not long after she started weaning Oudra and her pregnancy was progressing well. Avra was cautiously optimistic; all the signs suggested that Ora's baby would be healthy, but she knew from her store of memories, as well as from first-hand experience, that there could be unforeseen complications with any birth.

And Ega, the mate of Borm, the young man selected for special honours at the Bear Ceremony, had given birth to a baby girl, the first child to be born since Creb. Avra and Uba had both helped to deliver the infant, whom Borm had named Aba. As with Dorv and his manhood ceremony, Avra's feelings had been mixed. She was pleased that Ega's labour had gone well and that Aba was healthy, but it also reminded her of the difficulties she had faced, not to mention the damage that had been done to Creb. The boy who should have been destined to be leader was instead destined to be crippled for the rest of his life.

* * *

Avra did her best to help Creb, encouraging him to exercise in order to strengthen his bad leg. But there was only so much she could do and, by the time Creb was three years old, his leg showed little improvement. Unable to learn to hunt like other males, he would often watch longingly as Zoug practised with his small weapons, wanting to join in but prevented from doing so because of his crippled leg.

Worse, Avra had noticed some members of the clan commenting about him. From early childhood, she had been conditioned not to look at people when they were talking, but she couldn't help seeing some of things people were saying about Creb. From these brief glimpses, she gathered that they thought he would never be anything but a burden, that it would be better if he hadn't been allowed to live. She never let anyone know how much these comments upset her, but she was worried all the same; sooner or later, Creb would begin to notice what people were saying about him. And then there was the question of what would happen to him when he grew up. If he couldn't learn to hunt, he would always be the lowest ranked male in the clan, would never rise through the ranks to become leader as he should have.

Vorg tolerated his mate's son, but there was none of the paternal pride most men showed towards the sons of their mates. He never said anything openly, but Avra sensed that he was ashamed of Creb, that he believed the boy's deformity cast doubt on his manhood; it meant the essence of his Red Deer totem had never completely overcome her Duck totem. All the same, he was gentle with her and never blamed her for producing a less-than-perfect child the way most men would have. Nor did he show any sign of wanting to give her up or take a second mate.

Besides, she suspected that she was already pregnant again. The time when she normally had her woman's curse had passed with no sign of blood and she was suffering bouts of morning sickness just as she had when she was pregnant with Creb. All the same, she decided she would wait until she was sure before she told Vorg. That would mean waiting to see if she missed her next woman's curse as well; if she did, it would mean her totem had definitely been defeated.

If she was indeed expecting her second child, Avra wanted this baby to be healthy and, for Vorg's sake, she wanted a son who could be raised to become the next leader. Vorg needed an heir and, since Creb was unable to fulfil the destiny that should have been his from birth, Avra knew she must produce a healthy boy. It was the duty of all good Clan women to produce sons, especially if they were mated to a leader or to a man who would one day become a leader.

In any case, she decided that she would not mention the possibility that she was pregnant until she was certain. To say anything too soon could be bad luck and she didn't want anything to go wrong this time.

* * *

Vorg, however, was highly perceptive and soon noticed that Avra wasn't keeping herself in the isolation required of women whose totems were battling. But it would be unseemly for him to say anything openly, so he waited until he and his family were in the privacy of their hearth before he asked Avra if her totem had been defeated.

"Yes, I believe life has started," she replied, obeying a lifetime of conditioning to answer a direct question. "And I hope this baby will be a boy too," she added, nodding towards Creb. The child had fallen asleep in Uba's lap and was totally oblivious to the discussion going on between his parents.

"Healthy, I hope," Vorg signed, refraining from openly mentioning Creb's deformity. When he made the decision to let Avra keep Creb, he had done so expecting the child to die within a few days. But, against all expection, Creb had lived; he had made it through the crucial first seven days and was now in his weaning year. In around seven or eight years' time, he would become a man - or he would have had he been able to hunt. Vorg had often wondered what he was going to do about the son of his mate, the boy whose crippled leg prevented him from learning to hunt like other males, and he was still no nearer to a solution than he had been three years ago.

"I hope so too," Avra gestured, looking down at herself. Inside her, though it was too early yet for anything to show, Creb's younger sibling was growing. She clutched her amulet, asking her totem to make this child normal and healthy and to make it the boy she and Vorg both wanted.

* * *

Avra's pregnancy progressed normally, but she knew a normal pregnancy did not always lead to a normal birth. There was always something that could go wrong, as had happened when Creb was born, so she dared not relax until her child was born alive and well and, hopefully, male. Some day, she would need a daughter to continue her line, but not yet. First, she wanted to give Vorg an heir and she hoped her second son would become the leader his brother could never be.

Creb was aware of a sense of anticipation at the hearth, though he did not know what was causing it. He just knew that his mother's belly was swelling and that, if he put his hand on it, he could sometimes feel something kicking inside. Then, when he was nearly four years old, he saw Avra stop suddenly while preparing the evening meal, a strained expression crossing her face. "Mother, what's wrong?" he signed. He was beginning to pick up the nuances of posture and expression that were so crucial to the Clan's language. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not hurt," Avra signed back. "I'm just . . ." She was cut off as she felt another contraction and gave her young son a reassuring gesture.

At length, Vorg went to join the rest of the men around Cruv's fire, but Creb stayed where he was. Adult males were not allowed near a woman in labour, but Creb was a child, so no-one was concerned by his presence; in fact, having a child of either gender witness a birth was of little concern to the Clan. Birth was a fact of life and Clan people did not conceal the facts of life from their children. Indeed, Creb had already witnessed the births of Aba and of Ora's second child, Noog; both babies had been normal and healthy, assuring their mothers that the crippled child's presence had not angered the spirits.

As Avra laboured, Vorg's hearth had a constant traffic of women going back and forth. Some only stopped by briefly to offer Avra moral support, but a few stayed to help Uba. Nothing was said openly, but they were all hoping that nothing would go wrong this time, that Avra's child would not be crippled like its brother. If it was, Avra would almost certainly have to dispose of it; it was too much to hope that Vorg would allow her to keep two deformed babies. Throughout it all, Creb didn't move; he sat on his sleeping furs, watching as his mother groaned and strained.

This time, however, Avra's labour progressed normally and, as the sun made its first appearance on the horizon to the east, her second child was born alive and well and howling lustily.

* * *

Uba tied off the umbilical cord with sinew which had been dyed red, then bit through the cord to sever it. "You have another son," she gestured, wrapping the baby in a soft rabbit skin and handing him to his mother.

Avra put the baby to her breast and was relieved to find that he latched on immediately. After the problem she had had producing milk for Creb when he was first born, one of her biggest worries had been that it would happen again. But it looked as though there were going to be no problems with this child; he was a strong and healthy baby and, unlike his brother, his head was the right size. After a while, Avra beckoned to her first son, who was still sitting on his sleeping furs, asking him if he wanted to see the baby.

Curious, Creb got up and limped over to his mother, who held the baby so that he could see him clearly. Creb studied his tiny brother closely, then turned to Avra and asked: "Will he be leader one day?" He was becoming conscious of the fact that his mother's mate was the leader of the clan and, while he still wasn't entirely sure what a leader did, he knew it was a very important job. And he also knew it meant Vorg was a very important man.

"Yes, he will," Avra gestured. "But not for a long time. He's got a lot to learn yet and you and Vorg must teach him." Since Creb had been born to the mate of a leader, he should have the memories for leadership, just as she had memories for healing. And helping to prepare his younger brother to take Vorg's place one day was the closest he would ever get to becoming leader himself.

"Yes, mother," Creb signed. "I'll teach him and so will Vorg."

* * *

It was the day before the naming day for Avra's baby was due to be held. Vorg had gone to talk to Breeg and let him know the name he had chosen for the newest addition to his clan, the boy who would one day take his place. Avra, still confined to the hearth, sat rocking the baby in her arms and Uba had taken charge of Creb. The old woman was sitting on her sleeping furs with her small grandson beside her, engrossed in the stories she was telling him.

"Tell me another," Creb signed after a while.

Uba hesitated. She had already told him several Clan legends, including a few she had dredged up from the deep recesses of her memory, even though she had never seen anyone tell them. But Creb was still in the mood for a story, so she decided to tell him one from her own personal experience. "Did I ever tell you about the man of the Others?"

Creb shook his head. "What's a man of the Others?" he asked.

"The Others are people," Uba gestured. "A different kind of people, taller than Clan people. Their foreheads are higher than ours, they don't have brow ridges and there's a growth on their jaws that we don't have." She pointed to her jaw which, like that of all Clan people, was chinless and forward-thrusting. Then, she continued her story.

"It happened a long time ago, before your mother was born." Uba couldn't say how long ago because Clan people found numbers a difficult abstraction and keeping track of time even more so. The latter was a skill only mog-urs were allowed to learn and it could take them years to master it; Uba, as a female, could never be taught such sacrosanct knowledge. "I was a young medicine woman, who had just taken over from the medicine-woman-before-me," she went on. "One evening, we were gathered around our fires when a man staggered into the cave. I could see right away that he was one of the Others, even though I'd only ever seen his kind from a distance. And I could also see that he was hurt."

"He passed out just inside the cave entrance, so I went to tell the leader. In those days, the leader was a man named Grib. I thought he might not let me help a man of the Others, but he had two of his hunters bring the man into the cave where I could treat him. I didn't know if Clan medicine would work on one of the Others, but I felt I had to try."

"What was wrong with him?" Creb asked.

"His arm was badly broken - I think he must have fallen and hurt it. I gave him some medicine to make him sleep and set his arm to help it mend properly. It took him longer than I expected to wake up from the sleeping medicine, but his arm healed without any problems, so I knew Clan medicine would work on the Others. Afterwards, he stayed with the clan for a while, learned our ways; he even learned some of our language. And he went hunting with the other men."

"What was his name?"

"He had a strange name," Uba signed. "I couldn't say it the way he did - no-one in the clan could. Denrec was as close as I could get. Anyway, he lived with us for a while, until it was time for the next Clan Gathering. Then, he left us and went back to his own people."

* * *

"The boy's name is Brun," Breeg gestured as he used the red ochre paste to draw a line from the baby's undeveloped brow ridges to the tip of his nose. Avra repeated the name, feeling a sense of pride that Vorg had chosen it for her second son. Like Creb, Brun was named after a former leader of their clan. Unlike Creb, Brun would be able to follow in the footsteps of his namesake. The rest of the clan began to file past, each of them saying the baby's name out loud.

Vorg was first. "Brun," he said, a look of paternal pride in his eyes as he looked down at the future leader.

Next came Uba, the old medicine woman coming forward to acknowledge Avra's second son. "Brun."

Creb limped over to his mother and younger brother. "Brun," he said. He was the youngest member of the clan to file past. Aba and Noog were still nursing and, by tradition, only those who were past their weaning year took part in this ritual.

The rest of the clan filed past in turn. Last of all came Inga, the childless woman from another clan, the woman who had the lowest rank of anyone in the clan. "Brun," she said, then quickly withdrew. She always came forward to acknowledge each new addition - it would be unlucky to do otherwise - but, for her, each naming ceremony was tinged with sadness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The people who had been left behind in the cave hurried to greet those returning from the hunt. Nearly three moons had passed since Vorg took his hunters, and four of the women, on the clan's first extended hunt for nearly two years and now they were returning in triumph. It had been a successful hunt; the hunters had managed to bring down a bison bull in the prime of life without any of them suffering any serious injuries. All the same, Vorg knew the risks involved in hunting big game - after all, but for the aurochs which caused Dron's death, he wouldn't have had to become leader so young - so Avra had been included in this hunt. Mostly, when men were injured while hunting, they coped as best they could until they got back to the cave, but it was generally a good idea to have a medicine woman along on an extended hunt, just in case an emergency arose. In this case, there had been no major accidents, but there was no telling what would happen the next time.

Holding two-year-old Brun on her hip, Avra greeted Uba, who took the small boy in her arms. "You've grown since I last saw you," Uba signed, putting Brun down on the ground. She looked down at the future leader of the clan with a expression of pride in her eyes. Unlike his brother, Brun was a healthy child and, if all went well, he would one day take Vorg's place at the head of the clan.

"Brun big now," the child gestured, flexing his muscles to show his grandmother how strong he was.

"He certainly is," signed Avra. "He even wanted to go with the men when they went after the herd, but I told him he was too young, that he could go on hunts when he was older. Meanwhile, he could help me when the hunters . . ." She paused, suddenly noticing that something was wrong; one member of the clan was missing. "Where's Creb?"

Uba shook her head. "I don't know - I haven't seen him since this morning." It was a straightforward statement, but Uba's body language betrayed her concern. Lately, Creb had taken to wandering alone and that worried her. His limp was as bad as ever, which would make it difficult for him to escape if any wild animals attacked him, and he lacked the weapons which male members of the clan usually carried.

Avra asked everyone who had stayed behind if they had seen Creb; they all gave the same reply as Uba. Growing increasingly concerned, she realised there was only one thing she could do. Without stopping to change her wrap, she turned to walk away from the cave. "Tell Vorg I've gone to look for Creb," she told Uba. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I am going now," she added. There was nothing, no word or gesture, in the Clan's language which directly translated as "goodbye"; at most, someone might state that they were "going now" as Avra had just done. Or, if someone was embarking on a long journey, such as those setting off for home at the end of a Clan Gathering, "walk with Ursus" might be used. Mostly, however, Clan people simply parted company without saying anything.

* * *

Creb was now six years old, an age where most Clan boys were learning the skills of adult males. Had it not been for his crippled leg, he would have been accompanying the men to the field where they practised with their weapons, learning how to stab with a spear or throw a stone with a sling. Had it not been for his crippled leg, he would probably have made his first kill by now, a rabbit or a giant hamster perhaps, and brought it back to the cave, where Avra would have praised him and told him what a fine hunter he was growing up to be.

But he would never be able to do that. His limp meant he would be unable to keep up with a hunting party and it also made it impossible for him to move without making a noise, so hunting small game was out too. It often left him rather at a loss for something to do; he could not learn to hunt like other males and, though children of both sexes helped their mothers with the chores, he had reached the stage where boys preferred to slip away and join the men. But, though he had tried to do that a few times, he'd noticed that the men tended to drop their hands in mid-discussion the moment they saw him. It was as if they thought it wasn't worth imparting any hunting lore to him, since he'd never be able to make use of it.

That was why he spent a great deal of time wandering alone, thinking to himself. That he could never hunt was something he had already accepted, just as he had accepted that neither Avra nor Uba could cure his crippled leg. For as long as he lived, he would have a limp and, young as he was, he knew this made his future in the clan uncertain. For a man to have to give up hunting through old age or injury was one thing; he could settle down to a quiet retirement and, while he might lose status as a result, nothing could take away the years he had spent contributing to the clan. But a boy who could never learn to hunt would never be able to gain status in the first place. Even if his mother was mated to the leader . . .

At that moment, Creb looked round to find himself facing a massive mound of fury; without realising it, he had wandered into cave bear territory and was dangerously close to a den with a young cub in it. The mother bear, having scented the intruder, had been moved to defend her young. Otherwise, she would not have paid attention to the presence of a six-year-old boy on her territory; he was no threat to her and her diet, unlike that of her smaller cousins, was primarily vegetarian. All the same, her claws could still do massive damage . . . She swiped out, catching Creb on the left side of his face; he screamed as her claws tore through his flesh, putting out his eye and ripping away half his face.

Half-blinded, Creb tried to get away. But even someone with two fully functioning legs would have found it difficult to outrun a cave bear; with his crippled leg, he didn't stand a chance. Before long, the bear caught up with him and knocked him flying with her powerful foreleg. He landed awkwardly on his right side and, as he did so, he heard two cracks, followed by an overwhelming pain from his right arm and leg. The latter was the leg in which he had his limp and it was now damaged even more. And his arm was now completely useless, crushed by the powerful cave bear. Instinctively, he closed his remaining eye and went limp, listening as the cave bear sniffed around, trying to determine if he still posed a threat.

When he didn't move, the bear moved away. She had not been aiming to kill, but to neutralise the intruder which she felt posed a threat to her cub. All the same, she felt this den was no longer safe; she would have to take her cub and move to a safer location.

Creb lay on the ground long after the cave bear had gone. But, when he attempted to stand up, his injured leg gave way beneath him and he fell to the ground once more. He lay there, torn and bleeding, half his face ripped away, blinded in one eye, one arm and one leg badly broken. He reached for his amulet with his uninjured arm and, clutching the leather pouch, blacked out.

* * *

Banging two stones together to scare off wild animals, Avra continued the search for her older son. Something, though she wasn't entirely sure what, told her that something bad had happened, that Creb was in some kind of danger. Just for a moment, she wondered if she had been right to go alone. When Clan women went anywhere, they usually went with someone, since their lack of weapons made them vulnerable. Indeed, that was why a girl had to spend her first menstrual period away from her clan's cave; the days and nights alone, without weapons for protection, were a test of courage and, if the girl survived the ordeal, she would become a woman. But Avra knew it was too late for her to turn back now.

Suddenly, she spotted something on the ground. She paused, clutching her amulet, then went to take a closer look, only to cry out in anguish moments later. "Creb!" she wailed out loud. "My son!" she gestured frantically, shaking him. "You can't be dead! You can't be!" She beat her breasts and launched into a keening wail, but she did not shed any tears; the eyes of Clan people did not water as a result of strong emotions, only when they were infected or something got into them. But that didn't mean she felt the pain of her grief any less. Creb, her son who had survived against the odds, who would have been destined to be the next leader had he not been crippled, lay lifeless, his face mutilated.

Just then, however, she heard him give a faint moan. Relieved, but still cautious lest it was a trick on the part of the spirits, she leaned closer, listening to his chest. He was still breathing; he was alive. But he was bleeding very badly and Avra knew she had no time to lose. Like all medicine women, she carried a bag made from an otter's skin, which contained pouches filled with various medicinal herbs, whenever she was away from the cave. But these were only basic remedies; Creb's injuries were so severe that she would need more than these if she was to stand any chance of saving him. Not to mention that she would almost certainly have to enlist Breeg's help to call on the spirits to help her work her healing magic.

Using a soft absorbant rabbit skin, Avra cleaned Creb's wounds as best she could. Then, she lifted the unconscious child in her arms and headed back to the cave.

* * *

"Avra!" Uba looked up as her daughter staggered into the cave, carrying Creb. One look at her young grandson was all she needed to know that he had been badly hurt, but she could not yet tell what had caused his injuries. "What happened?"

Avra laid Creb on his sleeping furs. "I found him like this," she signed. "I thought he was dead at first, but then I heard him moan . . ." She paused and looked down at the child who lay unconscious in front of her. "These look like the sort of wounds you get from a cave bear," she added, recalling both the store of knowledge she had inherited from her ancestors and her own personal experience. When Dron had sent his hunters to capture a cave bear cub for the Clan Gathering, one of the men had been attacked by the mother bear. Avra, then a young girl, had helped Uba to treat him, but his wounds were too severe and he died not long after. Because he had been killed by Ursus, he was given special honours at his burial ceremony; he had been tested and, while he had not survived the test, he had been chosen to speak for the Clan in the world of the spirits.

But Avra was not about to let Creb go to the world of the spirits, not without at least trying to save him. She set to work preparing a dressing of herbs to place over Creb's face to drive out any evil spirits which might infect the wounds, knowing even as she did so that, if he lived, he would carry the scars from those wounds for the rest of his life; it was already too late to save his eye. Brun toddled up to her, knowing something serious was happening which involved his brother but too young to understand just how serious Creb's injuries were. "Creb hurt?" he signed. When Avra, her mind focused entirely on her wounded son, didn't reply, Brun tugged at her arm. In the end, Vorg had to step in.

"Come on, young man," he gestured, picking the toddler up in his arms. "I think we need to leave your mother to work her healing magic." He left the hearth, taking Brun with him, wondering as he did so if Avra's magic would be enough to save Creb; the boy had sustained wounds which could kill a grown man. But Creb had proved to be a survivor when he was born, making it to his naming day in spite of his difficult birth, and there was a chance that he might survive this, if the spirits allowed it.

Avra, absorbed in treating Creb's injuries, did not notice when Vorg and Brun left the hearth. Nor did she notice when Breeg, summoned by Uba, arrived, until she looked up and he was there, making gestures over the badly wounded child, pleading with the spirits not to take him. Most of the gestures he used were unfamiliar to her - only the men were allowed to know their meaning - but she understood what he was doing, having seen him call on the spirits many times before. A medicine woman rarely treated injuries as severe as Creb's without her clan's mog-ur asking the spirits to assist in the patient's recovery.

Avra did not know how her medicinal herbs worked; she only knew that they did - most of the time. And she vowed to draw on every scrap of information in her memory to try and save Creb's life. Even though he was already crippled before the cave bear attack, even though his body had been damaged still further, she wanted to do whatever she could to keep him alive.

* * *

By evening, however, Creb's condition was growing worse. He had developed a fever and Uba and Avra were trying to keep his temperature down. In addition, his fractured limbs were giving both women cause for concern. Avra had splinted the leg by strapping it to a length of wood using leather thongs, but she knew it might not heal properly. If it didn't, Creb, assuming he recovered, would never be able to walk unaided again. But his broken arm was the real worry; neither Uba nor Avra had ever had to deal with a fracture this bad.

"The bones are too badly damaged," Uba gestured, lifting the limp arm. "I don't think they're ever going to mend properly."

"Would applying a birchbark cast help?" Avra asked. "It did when you treated that man of the Others." She had never met the stranger who had stumbled into their cave years before, his arm badly broken, but Uba had told her about how she had treated his injury even though he was one of the Others. Clan people tended to avoid the Others and women were particularly wary of them, not least because there was always talk at Clan Gatherings about men of the Others relieving their needs with Clan women without giving them the signal. It must have taken a great deal of courage for Uba to go near a man of the Others, even one who was wounded.

"Yes, but his arm wasn't so badly broken. And he was able to use it again after I took the cast off." Uba looked down at Creb and shook her head. "I don't think Creb will be so lucky; even if the bones do heal, they won't knit together properly. And that means he'll never be able to use that arm again." Not to mention that it was becoming increasingly obvious that an evil spirit had lodged itself in the broken arm, a spirit which would resist all temptation to drive it out. Even if it did eventually leave without taking Creb's life force with it, the child's arm would be left paralysed.

"Then there's only one thing we can do," Avra gestured, recalling something buried in the deep recesses of her memory. It was a procedure she had never attempted herself - indeed, she was only able to remember it because of the vast store of knowledge she had inherited from her ancestors - but it might be Creb's only chance. "We must take the arm off and hope it will be enough to save him." It was risky, but Avra knew the only alternative was leaving Creb with an arm which would dangle limply for the rest of his life. "It might be the only way to drive out the evil spirits in him," she added. "Besides, if he can't use that arm, it won't do him any good if we don't remove it."

Uba looked at her daughter. She too had never performed an amputation before, least of all on her own grandchild, but the knowledge of how to carry out the procedure was stored in her memory. Even so, cutting someone's arm off was not something to be done lightly, but there seemed to be no other way. The arm was useless, damaged beyond repair. She nodded her agreement.

* * *

Uba stretched Creb's injured arm to its full length and held it in position. Using a knife which had been made for butchering animal carcasses but which hadn't yet been used for that purpose, Avra began to cut into the child's flesh. As she did so, she heard him moan faintly and was grateful that he was still unconscious; she didn't want to risk giving him any of the datura sedative while he was still so weak. She made a mental note to have some of the drug ready for when he woke up, refraining from mentioning, even to herself, that it could be a case of _if_ he woke up. Nor did she allow herself to think about the fact that the person on whom she was performing this potentially dangerous operation was her own son, the boy she had struggled to give birth to six years before. She just did what she had to do to try and save his life.

It seemed to take forever, but it actually wasn't very long before Avra had cut through Creb's flesh and exposed the bone. A little more sawing and the arm was off, leaving a stump behind. Avra then used a pair of tongs to fish a hot coal out of the fire and hold it against the end of the stump, cauterizing it to stop the bleeding and destroy any evil spirits that might still be lingering. Finally, she applied a dressing. She had done all she could; it was now up to the spirits to decide whether Creb pulled through or not.

Next, she turned her attention to the arm she had just severed, wrapping it in a leather blanket. "Look after Creb," she gestured to Uba, picking up the grisly parcel. "I'm going to dispose of this." With that, she turned and left the cave, walking until she felt she had come far enough before she opened the blanket and laid the arm on the ground for scavenging animals to find. She did not look back as she headed back to the cave.


End file.
